


Not Exactly Nightmares

by GretchenSinister



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012), Rise of the Guardians RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-09 05:15:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20509400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenSinister/pseuds/GretchenSinister
Summary: Original Prompt: “Chris Pine goes to Brazil to promote the movie. GETS FUCKED BY BRAZILIAN PITCH. ON THE BEACH. IN ELEVATORS. IN THE BACKROOM OF A SKEEZY CLUB."So it turns out Brazilian Pitch was still Jude Law (at least that’s what the comments said). All right, RPF away! Or…sort of RPF, because I’m still kind of a coward about that notwithstanding my unfinished novel-length thing about all of David Bowie’s personas. Uncharted waters here, y'all.





	Not Exactly Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on 4/26/2013.

On its way up to Chris’ room at the hotel, the elevator he’s on stops between floors. Resigned, he leans against one mirrored wall to wait and see if the machinery will start again on its own. Technically, he should be in a hurry—there’s another Rise of the Guardians promotional event in half an hour, but with everything that’s been scheduled for today, the jet lag, and what feels to him like unseasonable heat for November, he would love to have an ironclad excuse like “I got stuck in an elevator” to allow him to get some peace and quiet. He yawns, and considers sitting on the floor. Hell, maybe he could actually take a nap. It’d be safe, right? Elevators weren’t airtight. 

Just then, the lights flicker, and Chris rolls his eyes. No one could explain why they had chosen to stay at a hotel that was in the midst of a renovation project, and brief interruptions in power proved to be nearly hourly annoyances. 

Still, it wasn’t like it caused any real problems. As Chris is thinking this, of course, in order to prove him wrong, the lights go out again, and don’t come back on. Now, the elevator is lit only faintly by a few red emergency lights. 

When his eyes adjust, he glances into the mirrors on the wall only to see Pitch—_whatthefuck_—standing behind him. The apparition places his long-fingered hands on Chris’ shoulders and slowly turns him around, and it’s still Pitch but it’s also Jude and he/they leans his smirking face towards Chris’ stunned one, pressing their lips together and slipping his tongue inside his mouth and wait there seems to be something wrong about this situation— 

The jolt of the elevator starting to move again wakes Chris from his dream. He runs his hand over his face._ Well, won’t that be a funny story not to share with anyone._

* * *

Late the next afternoon, they all finally have some free time, and Chris goes down to the beach, intending to people-watch while he tans, but he still hasn’t adjusted to the schedule and the time zone yet, so he ends up mostly dozing. 

For some reason, it doesn’t seem surprising to Chris when he opens his eyes to find Pitch lying on top of him. “So glad to see you again,” he murmurs with Jude’s voice as he leans down to nibble at his ear with those weird shark-like teeth. “Shall we pick up where we left off?” Pitch begins to nip at Chris’ neck, following each bite with soothing licks and maddening suction.

Chris moans, and reaches up to embrace Pitch, his hands skating against the lean muscles of his back. “Wait—wait—we’re in public—”

Pitch reaches down between them to palm Chris’ growing erection. “So? I’m sure we won’t be showing them anything they don’t want to see,” he says, and laughs low and wicked when Chris’ cock practically jumps at the thought. “You’re going to enjoy this, aren’t you? Me taking you in front of everyone on the beach—”

“Hey, Chris.” It’s Hugh. Chris opens his eyes in confusion. No Pitch. No Pitch talking dirty to him in Jude’s voice. “Sorry to interrupt whatever good dream you were having, but thought you might be a bit embarrassed to have it in public.”

Chris considers burying himself in sand, but instead turns over onto his stomach and has a relatively normal conversation with Hugh.

* * *

And that seems to be the end of that. When Chris wakes up late the next morning, just in time to be ready to meet Jude for lunch, he can’t remember his dreams at all—though he still doesn’t feel rested.

As they make small talk about the weather, items on the menu they don’t recognize, and other such topics, the sound of Jude’s voice brings Chris’ dream back to him all at once.

“No interruptions,” Pitch is whispering to him as he pulls Chris’ pants down in the darkness of a club’s back room. His whisper is barely audible over the beat of the music outside, but it is still Jude’s voice, and it still sends shivers down his spine. “Not even if someone catches us.” The room smells like old cigarette smoke and hairspray, and Chris is sure that if he knew the composition of the dirt on the wall Pitch has shoved him against, he’d be horrified.

But it’s strangely hard to be horrified when the living embodiment of fear is giving you deep kisses that include just a little more use of teeth than you expect. When he’s lifting you and spreading your knees and proving that even though he’s skinny he’s still _strong_, supernaturally strong, _well that makes sense_. 

“Are you ready?” Pitch asks, and Chris nods. He’s not sure he’d have been able to do anything else. 

“Gooood.” Pitch draws out the word as he slowly presses himself into Chris. In the position that he’s in, Chris can do little more than writhe and gasp as he moves in and out ever so slowly, ever so patiently, as if he’s trying to get Chris used to this sensation of being filled. Chris is pretty sure that it’s no use. How could he get used to this thickness, this burn, this heat who would think that darkness would be capable of _searing_ him… 

Chris reaches his fingers up to tangle in Pitch’s hair—he needs something to hold on to, something to focus on, but before he can gather his thoughts, he realizes he’s whispered, “faster”, and Pitch hums with Jude’s voice and obliges. 

“Anything for you…anything, anything. I can even look like him if you like—” and in an instant Pitch is Jude, Jude with gray skin and golden eyes and in the dream it seems so right and he pulls Pitch closer with shaking legs— 

“Are you okay?” Jude asks, peering at Chris from across the table. “You look kind of ill. Jet lag still getting to you?”

“No—I—I’ve just been having some weird dreams lately.”

Jude laughs a little. “Not nightmares, I hope.”

Chris steadies his smile. “No, not really.”

“Good.” Jude’s face settles into a wry expression. “I’d hate to think I was responsible.”


End file.
